The Flesh and the Spirit
by Sir Thopas
Summary: This is madness! England is my home. I believe in the future of our Empire. I believe in the sanctity of the crown. I have done everything that is required of a good and proper Englishman. How could I be exiled to France? - A historical Cogsworth. Fifth in the "Letters to a Loved One" series.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note – Next in the "Letters to a Loved One" series! Here, Cogsworth writes a series of letters to his friend John Howard. As with all the stories in this series, everyone mentioned in these letters was a real historical person, with the exception of John Howard, Camilla Fielding, Mary Greville, and Charles Drummond (and, of course, the _Beauty and the Beast_ characters themselves). For some background information: the 1600s was a period in which Catholic-Protestant tensions finally exploded. In 1685 the Catholic James II became King of Protestant England. This was tolerated by the Protestants because his wife, Anne Hyde, was Protestant and he raised his two children, the future Queens Mary II and Anne, Protestant as well. They could deal with James II so long as the next ruler was Protestant. However, when Anne Hyde died James II married Catholic Mary of Modena and had a son, the would-be James III. This meant the line of succession had moved to a Catholic heir, which incited rebellion. James II was deposed and he, Mary of Modena, and his son James were sent into exile in France. His Protestant daughter, Mary II, replaced him as the ruler of England.

**The Flesh and the Spirit**

_Chapter 1_

April 10, 1708

Dear John,

How long do you intend to stay away from school? Oxford isn't the same without you. It is not too late to return. I know the Dean will accept you back; most of the professors and students here are Royalists. Everyone was deeply disappointed when James III's invasion failed last month. I heard he lost many French ships and sailors that he brought with him to Dunkirk; I do hope he has managed to escape back to France. I'm not sure exactly where my loyalties lie – with James or Mary – but I do know I would be deeply upset if he were captured and executed. I know where the line of succession lays and you know me, I have always been a traditionalist. But unlike you I am Anglican, and I cannot help but feel that England would be better served with a Protestant monarch.

I know you did not like to hide your Catholicism. You always said that it was a part of you and that you shouldn't have to keep it secret like it was something to be ashamed of. But they're not asking you to give it up completely, only to attend Anglican services as well. Oxford cannot allow you to study here if you are recusant. It is just a service. It does not have to mean anything. This stand you are taking is jeopardizing your education. Abandoning your studies will not bring you closer to God or return the Queen's brother to the throne. I do not know if my words will do anything to sway you but I hope you will listen. In the meantime I am stuck here without you. I have been very lonely since you left. You know I do not have many friends here. Our classes now seem dull without you. Although you never cared for them to begin with, did you?

Our Latin and Greek classes are no longer as much fun. For a Catholic you never were very good at Latin. How did you manage through one of your Masses then? No matter. Our dear professor is quite beside himself now that you are gone. There is no one to aggravate him with terrible pronunciation, no one for him to unleash his sadistic punishments on. How very selfish of you. Look at what your running off has done.

History is still a favorite of mine. You always found it to be a great bore, I remember. You preferred the sciences. I must confess that without your help I am falling behind in chemistry and geometry. Rocks and stardust, that's all they will ever be to me. It might as well be witchcraft, for all I know. Luckily I am good at mathematics, or I do believe old Professor Bainbridge would have tossed me out on my ear a long time ago.

Rhetoric shall always be the bane of my existence. How do people manage to make speeches in public without humiliating themselves? It is the strangest thing. When I am with a group of people I can talk like any normal person. I can even be witty with luck. But the moment I am placed on platform in front of a crowd I lose all ability to make coherent sentences. I stumble and stutter and forget what I was about to say only to remember it later on and then I have to go back and suddenly I am rambling and babbling and I have no idea what I am talking about anymore. I made a great fool of myself the other day in front of everyone. My inability in this one subject has made me something of a laughingstock of the entire school. It is not that there is no one else who has a difficult time with rhetoric and discourse, it is that I just happen to have less talent than they. There is always someone worse, as they say, and that person is me. The professor enjoys ridiculing me; the more public my humiliation is the more he enjoys it. If you were here at least I would have that small comfort, but you are not.

I visited the Ashmolean Museum yesterday. We had promised together, but I do not know when you will return to Oxford. If ever. It is filled with so many curiosities. I saw Guy Fawkes's lamp and a sword owned by King Henry VIII. It was incredible. I wish you had been there.

Please come back soon.

Your friend,

William Cogsworth


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note – Gray's Inn is not an "inn" as in "tavern, motel". It is a professional association for barristers and solicitors (lawyers). To practice law in England you must belong to Gray's Inn or one of the other Inns of Court. These Inns also serve to teach law.

**The Flesh and the Spirit**

_Chapter 2_

December 27, 1710

Dear John,

Christmas was excruciating this year. I have come to conclusion that my family should not be allowed to interact with normal, decent people. You know me, John. I have a tendency to insult others without even realizing it. My family is one thousand times worse than I could ever hope to be. If I ever feel the need to visit them again I give you permission to lock me away in Bedlam for I have surely gone mad.

What an awkward and humiliating affair it was! Everyone took great pains to be as pleasant as possible, and they did try, bless them. My grandfather, Lord Denbigh, had no idea how he was supposed to act around my father and myself. He spent the entire evening unsure of whether to treat us like members of the family or order us into the kitchen to eat with the other servants. My grandmother, on the other hand, had no such problem. She whined to him throughout dinner about our presence. I wanted to bang my head against the table every time Lady Denbigh opened her mouth to complain! My mother said nothing. It had been so many years since she had been allowed to visit her old home. She hadn't wanted to jeopardize her rekindling relationship with her parents by confronting them with their treatment of her son and husband.

Did I ever tell you the reason behind my mother's disownment? I suppose it will all sound very dull to you, like some cheap novel. My mother is Camilla Fielding, the daughter of Basil Fielding, the 4th Earl of Denbigh, and Hester Firebrace. She was brought up a proper woman, well-educated and with good prospects. There had been talk of marrying her off to a Duke. Of course, no one realized that she had been carrying on an affair with a footman until she wound up pregnant and ran off with him. So, not exactly a typical fairy tale romance then.

My grandparents refused to speak with her after that. Some affection must have lingered though for it was my grandfather who paid for my schooling at Oxford. If it wasn't for him, I too might have ended up a lowly footman like my father. Just think: I might have been serving you. I would have dressed you in the mornings, set the dishes for supper, ran your household and servants. Now I am to be a barrister. Did I forget to mention that? My grandfather was so impressed when he learned that you and I are friends. Well, that is not exactly true. He doesn't care about you _personally_, only that you are the heir to the Duke of Norfolk. He was quite surprised that someone of my station would even know the name of someone like you. Our friendship and the excellent marks I received at Oxford and Gray's Inn have convinced him that I would make an exceptional barrister. He assures me that he will personally see to it that I am called to Bar as soon as possible. Oh, don't be fooled; Lord Denbigh made sure that I understood that he would never want his own son to become a lawyer – working isn't dignified for an Earl, as you know – but for commoner? A barrister would be a very worthy occupation, indeed.

I must confess I am terrified of this prospect. I had no intention of ever being called to the Bar. I was hoping that I might be able to return to Oxford to teach, but now it seems I am stuck. He may be my grandfather, but I cannot exactly say no to the Earl of Denbigh, now can I? My mother has worked so hard to regain his affection; I refuse to jeopardize that by throwing his offer back into his face. It seems I am trapped now. Dear God, could you imagine me going up before a court and arguing a case? I would laugh if I wasn't paralyzed with dread.

I hope you have had a better Christmas than I have. If only we had been able to stay in London this year I could have avoided all of this!

Your friend,

William Cogsworth


	3. Chapter 3

**The Flesh and the Spirit**

_Chapter 3_

May 16, 1713

Dear John,

How has your tour of the Continent been progressing? It seems I hear of nothing but France and Paris. You seem quite taken with the country. I can understand why; it is a Catholic country after all and I know how you are ostracized in England for your religion. Still, there are other places in Europe that are Catholic as well, and yet you linger in France. I confess I miss your company. This holiday of yours has been a long one, it seems it might never end. The quicker you press on, the sooner you will return and I will once again have someone to speak with who actually possesses some measure of intelligence. My fondness for you isn't the only reason why I want you to continue with your journey and leave France. I have heard that you are staying with the Duke of Melfort. You must know how dangerous this is for you. The Duke supported James II during the civil war and had to flee to France in order to avoid being charged with treason. I am trying to keep this as quiet as possible, but if your friendship with him became common knowledge you will be suspected of conspiring with the exiled Prince and his Catholic supporters. Everyone knows that it is only a matter of time before they try to retake the English throne. I am doing my best to look out for you, but you always have to make things so difficult.

I won't write any more on the subject, but I do hope you consider my words carefully. In other news I have been taken on by a Mr. Charles Smith, a lawyer of twenty years. He's a slow, doddering old fool, but he knows the law like the back of his hand. To think I've actually enjoyed working with him. I had been so terrified of the thought of speaking before a courtroom that I never once believed that I might actually come to take pleasure in my profession. But it turns out I am exceptionally good at arguing. I never would have thought it. I don't consider myself the argumentative type. Now I'll admit that I am the sort of man who will inform someone when they are being completely idiotic and ridiculous, but I would hardly call that arguing. More like enlightening. I can't have the poor fools continue on thinking that they are right when they are clearly in the wrong, now can I? It would be a disservice to them.

The amount of work involved is sheer Hell, though. I took my own holiday last month to Bath. It was just for a fortnight, mind you, but I really quite enjoyed it. It was just Mother and I who went; I had decided to accompany her to the city's famed hot mineral springs when she began to complain of a cough, though I suspect that was just a ruse to guilt me into joining her on this little excursion. She hasn't spoken of this supposed cough since. It is quite a lovely city, though, and the baths are marvelous. My only complaint was all the people. There was nothing but a sea of tourists. But then I suppose I couldn't expect anything less. Ever since Thomas Guidott's book on the springs' natural healing properties was published people have been flocking here for this so-called miracle cure. Well, if you asked my Mother I am sure she will tell you that the springs cured her cough. Of course, she would have had to have a cough before it could be cured.

But my Mother is very a sly creature when she wants to be. There had been a reason why she had wanted to join her and it wasn't simply for the company of her son. Apparently my grandfather, Lord Denbigh, has been in conference with my Mother over my marriageless state. If I knew this would be the outcome of their reconciliation I would have never hoped for a reunion. Lord Denbigh has been quite impressed with my work and has made arrangements for me to marry Baron Brooke's daughter, Mary Greville. My Mother introduced me to her the day we arrived and we were forced to spend nearly every hour in each other's company. My Mother and her friends kept dropping little hints whenever they were in earshot, practically gushing on what a wonderful couple we would make. The entire affair was embarrassing.

Though I suppose I cannot be too upset over the proceedings. I did agree to marry the girl, after all.

Perhaps I should have opened with that instead of scolding you on your choice of friends? The truth is I am worried how you will feel about my upcoming wedding. It has just been the two of us for so long. I would understand if you were upset by this sudden development. I, myself, am unsure as to how I feel about this. Both of our families were pressuring us into an engagement and I didn't know what else to do but say yes to the whole thing. Perhaps it will all work for the best. She is fairly intelligent and received a proper sort of education for a woman. She can play the harpsichord, dance, and embroider with the best of them. She is not unattractive either. Those are all things one must look for in a wife, isn't it? I'm not really sure how one is supposed to go about these things. I've never really felt any sort of inclination to marry; no woman has ever struck my fancy. Indeed, when I think of Mary I feel nothing. It isn't exactly the whirlwind romance my parents had, is it?

Everyone assures me that I will grow to love her and maybe that is true. I am sure that I can be friends with her at the very least.

I hope you wish congratulations. Come home soon.

Your friend,

William Cogsworth


	4. Chapter 4

**The Flesh and the Spirit**

_Chapter 4_

July 5, 1713

Dear John,

Well, the deed is done, my old friend.

I'm so very glad that you were able to make it to the wedding, though I am sorry that you had to cut your holiday short. Still, it wouldn't have been the same without you. This whole thing seems so surreal, but your presence gave me strength to continue on.

Even now I can hardly believe it has happened. I confess I have no idea how I am supposed to act around her now. We grew to be such good friends before the marriage. Mary is a splendid woman and it was nice having someone to complain to about all the silly, stupid people in this world that I am forced to deal with. We would spend our days mocking our friends and acquaintances and laughing behind our hands, whiling away the afternoon hours pleasantly, but now the wedding has changed everything. She looks at me as though she is expecting more. I do not know what she wants or how I am to give it to her. I cannot help the way I feel. Am I suppose to give her flowers and chocolates and make outrageous promises like a lover would? Even if I were love with her, that would not be in my nature.

I suppose I shouldn't tell you the details of our marriage, but then again it isn't as though there is anything to actually tell. We were both so tired from the wedding ceremony that we both fell asleep the moment our heads hit the pillow. There had been no pressure and I was glad for it. Tonight I will not be so lucky. I will be expected to join with her on the marriage bed; after all, it isn't much of a marriage if the husband and wife refuse to have sexual relations with each other, is it? She could have the marriage annulled for something like this and I would be the laughingstock of all of England. Still… I wonder how long I can put it off. I doubt you would understand. You have never been… shall we say, discriminatory? … when it came to the fairer sex. You who would take to bed any woman that would have you! You must be laughing at me now for my reluctance.

You may be able to take a tumble with any girl who strikes your fancy whether you actually care for her or not, but I cannot. As good a friend as Mary is, I do not feel that way about her. But the fact of the matter is I married her. I don't have a choice in this. I will have to gather my courage soon, but not today at least.

I have heard that you are already making plans to return to France. Please tell me you will not be staying with the Duke of Melfort. I can accept you leaving, but I do not want to see you in trouble and you, John, have a way of finding it. I would rather you stay in England, by my side, but if it is Paris your heart longs for then go. Just be careful.

Always your friend,

William Cogsworth


	5. Chapter 5

**The Flesh and the Spirit**

_Chapter 5_

January 5, 1715

Dearest John,

For once I am glad that you are all the way in France. With the imminent arrival of our new German king I fear the worst for the Catholics and Tories, and you, my friend, are both. There is a dark mood that hangs over England. Everyone is worried that the Tories will try to seize power in Parliament. The Whigs will not allow it, of course. They believe that Parliament is the only institution that has the right to decide who will be our next ruler, unlike the Tories who believe in the heredity of blood, and they will not give up their power so easily. I must admit that I am of two minds. Now that Queen Anne is dead the only options left to us are her Catholic half-brother or this unknown Protestant German. I know you are in full support of James, but I believe that England must be ruled by a Protestant. I only wished that our new king was _English_. What can this King George possibly know of our way of life? Before long we shall all be eating strudels and wearing lederhosen, you'll see.

I know you had no great affection for Queen Anne. You have stated many times that you saw her as nothing more than a fat idiot who was too often pregnant and confined to bed to rule effectively. I, however, will always disagree with you on this. No other monarch has so effectively kept the peace between the English and the Scots. I would have been happy to have a child of hers take the throne, if only any of them had lived. Could a German have brought about a union between England and Scotland? I think not.

Despite the fact that you are now living across the Channel in France of all places, you seem to have a certain understanding of the events that are unfolding here in England. I have received your last two letters and I apologize for not writing back before now, but I must admit that I am a little puzzled, John. We have always been so candid with each other before, but now you are so brief and your writing seems rushed. You hint at something which you do not say. Throughout yourletters, youwrite things like "The German pretender will not sit on the English throne for long" and "The Whigs will be in for surprise if they think they can put a crown on the head of a German dog and think the Tories will say nothing about it". I confess this has me deeply troubled. In your last letter you requested - demanded! - that Mary and I visit you at your new residence in Saint-Germain-en-Laye. You have given out similar invitations before, but they have never been quite so... _adamant_. Almost as though you were afraid of my safety. But of course there is nothing for me to fear, is there? Or is there something you need to tell me?

Regardless of your reasons behind your invitation, we shall make the journey next month to see you. Mary has been pestering me about the trip since you first extended the offer and I feel obligated to indulge her in this, even if it means incurring the wrath of my employer, Mr. Smith. I'm afraid married life has turned out to be nothing like what the poor girl expected. Although I have been and always will be a good friend to her, I have been no husband. It is selfish of me, I know, but I cannot bring myself to visit her in the marriage bed. I have no love for children myself. I find them to be sticky, irritating nuisances. Why can't they act more like adults? But despite any ill feelings of mine, Mary should not be denied the privilege of being a mother. And yet...

In any event, you can expect the pair of us to arrive at your chateau in late February. I look forward to seeing you.

Your friend,

William Cogsworth


	6. Chapter 6

**The Flesh and the Spirit**

_Chapter 6_

March 1, 1715

Your lack of consideration continues to amaze me, John.

Honestly, what was the point of having Mary and I come all the way here only for you to hop on the next boat to Scotland? If you had already decided to cross the Channel we could have stayed at home and made you visit us. And, yes, I did write _Scotland_. Your friend, the Earl of Melfort - or should I now write the _Duc de Melfort_ since that is what the French king calls him? - let it slip that you would be landing in Aberdeen and not in London as you had told me. It seems very strange that you would leave your home in France in order to "attend to matters concerning the heir of the Duke of Norfolk" and, instead of going to meet your illustrious father at Worksop Manor in Nottinghamshire, you would travel all the way to _Aberdeen_.

I'm not going to even try to understand what is going on with you. I have a feeling I wouldn't like it one bit. But, believe me, John, if you end up doing something incredibly stupid I will see to it that you pay. You think I'm a horrible nag now? I have yet to begun to nag.

Mary, at least, has been enjoying herself, though she does miss your company. You both have similar humors and personalities. I am very glad that you two have become such good friends; I would hate to think that my wife and my best friend couldn't stand each other. Still, she has already decided that your little impromptu "excursion" will not dampen our holiday in the least. The Earl of Melfort has invited us into his home for the rest of the month and has promised us to take us on a tour of the surrounding countryside and hamlets. I'm looking forward to it, though it would have been better if you were here to enjoy it with us.

Most exciting since you left, Mary and I were introduced to King Louis XIV and his cousin, Philippe, the Duke of Orléans. The Earl hosted a banquet a few days after you had left and what a surprise it had been to see the King himself arrive! I was extremely flustered by the event; I kept stuttering and I even knocked over Mary's glass of wine! I probably looked like the biggest fool to have ever walked the Earth. Thank God for Mary and the Earl. They could smooth over any disaster with their charming tongues and smiles. Still, I feel the whole thing was a disaster. The French nobles that had gathered around the Earl's table mocked by Protestant faith relentlessly throughout the entire evening. I suppose this is what you had experienced in England. If it was then my sympathies for you have grown, for I have never had my religion ridiculed in that way before and all I could do was sit there and seethe.

The Duke of Orléans was the only Frenchman there who I found any sort of comradery with. He was surprised at how well I can speak the French language. Hmph! He must have thought the English school system was very sorry indeed if he didn't even think a University graduate could speak decent French! We talked on many a different subjects, mostly political science and some history, and I found him to be a very intelligent fellow. Still, not even I at my most oblivious, could fail to see the tension between the Duke and the King. I have heard of the death of the Bourbons through the newspapers; what a terrible tragedy to loose so many heirs in so little time. To think that the Bourbon dynasty is on the verge of extinction! The only two heirs left are mere children! Louis, the Duke of Anjou, is five and his cousin, Louis, the Duke of Berry, is not yet one. To think that one of these two babes could be the next King of France. The King knows that the Duke of Orléans will be regent after his death and then there is the fact that one of the two heirs - the Duke of Berry - is his _grandson_. I have heard that the King has been doing everything in his power to curb the future Regent's power. From the tension in that room, I know those rumors to be true at least.

Well, the countryside excursion looks to be promising, even if the banquet was a catastrophe. The only thing better would be your return. Whatever you are doing in Scotland, please be careful and come back soon.

Always your friend,

William Cogsworth


	7. Chapter 7

**The Flesh and the Spirit**

_Chapter 7_

March 16, 1715

John,

I have heard the most appalling rumor from the Earl of Melfort today. I know that it cannot be true because I know that you - my dearest friend - would never do something that would endanger the lives of either myself or my wife. You see, the Earl informed me that the Old Pretender - that would-be King James III - has written to the Pope asking him for his assistance in launching a rebellion against England and her new German king. The Earl told me that the Pretender has already amassed an army amongst the Tories and the old Catholic nobility, that they are lying in wait for his command in the Scottish wilds, and that you, my dear friend, are amongst them.

Is this why you sailed to Aberdeen? To await orders from your _king_? How could you do something like this? You are throwing your entire life away! Your rebellion has no hope of winning, you do realize this? If you are not killed in battle, then you will be captured and executed. If you are very, very lucky then you will spend the rest of your days locked away in some hellish prison.

I suppose this is why you were so insistent that Mary and I come and visit you at once. Our friendship is as well known as your sympathies to the Old Pretender. They would have arrested me in hopes that you had relayed the details of the rebellion to me. I know that you have done me a kindness, in that odd sort of way that so characterizes you. But forgive me if I do not see it as such. If you had never join this rebellion then there would be no danger to me. I can never return to England, I hope you know that. Your actions have doomed me.

What am I suppose to do now? How am I suppose to start a new life in _France_ of all places? I have lost my home, my family, my law practice. What is there for me in this foreign country? I loved England, it was the only place that I ever wanted to call home and now that is gone. Tell me, John, for you seem to have a plan for every occasion, tell me what am I suppose to do now? How am I to go on from here?

I never want to hurt you, but I do not know how I am to forgive you of this.

Cogsworth


	8. Chapter 8

Author's Note - I believe this is the only letter in this story to not be addressed to John, and instead is written to Lord Denbigh, Cogsworth's estranged grandfather.

**The Flesh and the Spirit**

_Chapter 8_

February 10, 1716

Dear Lord Denbigh,

I am aware that I am probably the last person in this world that you would wish to converse with. I know that my departure for France must have seemed as though I were in connection with the rebels, but believe me that is not true. I know that I have shamed this family, that my actions have cast doubt on your loyalty to the King, but I am still your grandson - commoner or not, exiled or not - and I hope that still means something to you.

There is a favor that I must ask of you. I have a friend who was involved with the rebels: John Howard, the son of the Duke of Norfolk. Though I suppose he is no longer the Duke's heir; his actions have no doubt removed him from the line of succession, whether by exile or imprisonment or, God forbid, death. He is the reason I am writing to you now. I have no right to ask this of you and you are no doubt already under suspicion because of me, but he is my friend and I must. I have heard no word from John since the old Pretender gave up the rebellion and sailed back to France some days ago. If you could find him for me and help him, in anyway that you can, I would be forever indebted to you.

He sent me letters throughout the rebellion. He told me how he and the Jacobites took Aberdeen, Iverness and Dundee in the early months of the revolt. In September, only a few days after the fighting begun, he described the failed attempt to take Edinburgh Castle. He and a party of one hundred Loyalists approached the castle in the dead of night, careful not to alert the guards to their presence. Their comrades who had been posing as guards inside the castle lowered a rope ladder for them, only to discover to their chagrin that the ladders were much too short. While John and the others were jumping up and down, trying in vain to reach the ladders, the real guards noticed something was wrong. They managed to flee before they were captured, and John had seemed so amused by the adventure, though I did not find it funny in the least.

When the tide began to turn in December, I started to receive fewer and fewer letters from him. I heard about the arrest of Sir William Wyndham, the leader of the English faction of Jacobites, and the Battle of Sheriffmuir. The last letter I have of him tells of King George's forces marching into Scotland with heavy artillery. He spoke of the sounds of canons firing at their heels as he and the other Jacobites fled deeper and deeper into the Scottish Highlands. To ward off the militia, the old Pretender and John's commander, the Earl of Mar, ordered that the villages they passed through be burned. He told me about how he had personally set fire to people's homes, leaving them without any means of shelter in the dead of winter. He seemed so contrite. I know that he has had a change of heart and that he regrets his rash actions. I am sure of it. I know that might not seem like much to you. His side lost, after all, of course you would think that he only regrets what happened only because he must now face the consequences, but it is more than that. You do not know him like I do. It would be a waste for him to spend the rest of his life locked away in some horrible prison. He is a good person, despite his faults.

I do not know if he survived the rebellion. He has not returned to France, at any rate, and so I know something terrible must have befallen him. He might have already been tried and executed, though I am sure I would have heard about that if it was true. He might be in prison, he might be in hiding somewhere in the Scottish wilds. I simply do not know. If you could find out what has happened to him I will be grateful.

Do tell Mother and Father not to worry. I have made something out of my life here in exile. France is not all bad, I suppose, though I miss England terribly. The French air seems to be very agreeable to Mary, at the very least, so you can give her well wishes to her kin as well.

If you wish never to hear from me again, I would not blame you. Just know that I never meant for any this to happen.

Sincerely,

William Cogsworth, your grandson


	9. Note

**ANNOUNCEMENT! **I will not be updating any of my fics for some time. This is because I will be reworking most of them. The first one that I am doing will be the "Letters to a Loved One" series. I will be combining all of the "Letters" fics into a novel-length work of prose (even the ones I haven't published yet- Chip's, Babette's, and Maurice's letters). This is due to some of the problems I've been having with the series, especially this last fic "The Flesh and the Spirit". Eighteenth-century British politics isn't exactly a well-known subject and I've had to go into great detail in my author's notes to explain what is going on just for the letters to make any sort of sense, and, oftentimes, the notes are longer than the letters themselves. I've come to realize that this a series that could benefit more from prose-fiction than epistolary. It may take a while for me to post it because I plan to upload it fully completed. I will also probably take down the other "Letters" fics when I do post it so for anyone who prefers the original stories you might want to save them.

I know, I know, whenever an author posts an announcement like this it you might as well sound the death knell now. I have every intention of posting this newer and, hopefully, better version of the "Letters" and I think I've got a pretty good track record of completing fics (so far at least). I hope I didn't disappoint anyone, but I think this is the best for the series.


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